


Blood

by starlore



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Post-RE6, Pre-Slash, connected by blood, just an idea i had a long time ago, nothing too graphic, some minor descriptions of gore, what if piers survived
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 04:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8431345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlore/pseuds/starlore
Summary: A fanfic from about two years ago that I reedited tonight. 
Jake never asked to be a savior, but he also never expected to actually witness the fruits of his sacrifice.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a little weird, I'll admit. It also ends kind of abruptly, since there really wasn't much else to put in it at the time. Maybe I'll rework it again in the future? Who knows. It's been a while since I've done anything RE-related, admittedly. Enjoy.

His blood, his heartbeat, thrummed in his veins. Fiery and hot, filled with young idiocy and arrogance, with pride and purpose. Each cell fought the violence brimming under his skin, curing the disease. He breathed in his strength without ever having asked for it. It was some sort of miracle, they said. He washed ashore, all tattered clothes and paled organs, hanging from his side like unraveled threads. A local fisherman found him, thought he was another victim of the sea, until he gasped for air, mouth agape and body trembling.

 

Then they carted him away like a broken toy in need of repair. Another tin soldier.

 

_ His _ blood, perfect and terrible, surged into him, cut through the film of death that settled over his body. Brightened him, gave him life, gave him color. Flesh unto flesh, once ragged and exposed now new again, pink and smooth and tender. Scars were an afterthought when the treatment was successful. A miracle, they said.

 

Jake was a reluctant savior, a horrid angel, violent and unrelenting. His touch was far-reaching, sent through the world to save those who were tainted. Piers didn’t want to know that his life was in the same hands of the man he found so insufferable.

 

But it didn’t matter what he wanted.

 

When he learned of the circumstances that led to him in a sterile room, Piers thought it a cruel joke. Payment for drawing a gun on the man, despite Jake’s inherent violent tendencies that threatened everyone around him. Of  _ course _ Jake would be the one to save his life. The cards he was dealt were all sour.

 

His skin burned.

 

\--

 

Jake could have told them no, could have told them to go fuck themselves, but he didn’t. Sherry pleaded with him-- _ please, Jake, Piers needs your help _ \--and though he rolled his eyes initially, he relented. He never was told the extent of Piers’ injuries, never was told that the man injected himself willingly with the C-Virus, never was told that he sank to the bottom of the sea and resurfaced like jetsam. 

 

It wasn’t until after he asked  _ why _ he was being shipped out there, rather than simply sending a sample of his blood to the hospital, did Jake find out the details.

 

The rage boiled in him, overflowed like a pressure cooker filled with conflicting emotions and too much salt. Every nerve throbbed, every single cell worked in unison to fuel his anger towards this man he barely knew. The questions that surfaced were too many, too personal for Jake to consider for more than a moment. In the end, he didn’t care about why Piers did it. As far as Jake was concerned, there was always another way. 

 

Big talk from a man who drowned his insecurities and loneliness in drugs and street fighting.

 

\--

 

When they saw each other, it was like a train hitting a stalled out car. Piers could see it coming, but the engine wouldn’t turn over. He was shocked into silence, initially thought that his eye was playing tricks on him (the other was still bandaged, tightly wound gauze and patches to keep everything in place) but Jake’s presence was undeniable. He was a force of nature, a gale of wind, carrying scraps of refuse with it, hurling into buildings and trees. Unrelenting.

 

But Piers was stuck in the bed, no place for a fight to break out. He couldn’t fathom why Jake looked so enraged, or why he was there in the first place, but he couldn’t move. Tubes trailed from his body to various machines, pumping him with fluid, with Jake’s blood, keeping the fire in his cells under control and manageable.

 

Jake did not strike him, did not yell, but his jaw remained set, his breaths coming in sharp huffs through his nose. For a moment, Piers thought him not unlike an unruly child, one about to throw a tantrum and kick and scream until his way was realised. It was nearly laughable. 

 

They were only a few feet apart. Any closer and Jake would be able to touch him, to smell the sea off his skin. 

 

He said nothing. Not at first.

 

Piers watched. His eyes were trained, and though he only had one at his disposal, it was enough to discern the way Jake seemed to want to burst out of his own skin. Every twitch of muscle in Jake’s arms and legs was taken in. Several scenarios presented themselves in his mind and not many resulted in a peaceful outcome. Jake was here, for reasons unknown to Piers, and clearly he didn’t come of his own volition. Why would he?

 

Finally, Jake’s body took a sharp turn in presentation: his shoulders slacked, he exhaled deeply, his fists uncurled. His eyes, however, in all their blue sharpness, remained fixated. Like shards of glass embedded into Piers’ skin, Jake’s gaze cut through him. 

 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he finally said, scowling all the while. Scolding, almost disappointed. No, he was  _ definitely _ disappointed. Piers’ expression didn’t falter, stony and unmoving, but his mind raced. 

 

“They dragged my ass all the way out here to siphon God knows how many pints of my blood out of my Goddamn veins, just to fix your stupid fucking mistake.”

 

Piers bristled. Try as he might, there was no denying that Jake’s words were hitting all the right soft spots, sharp claws digging into his flesh. He left his guard down and now he was carion.

 

But he was too damn tired to fight.

 

“I did what I had to, Jake.”

 

_ Did what i had to _ . That only made him angrier. Piers could tell the immediate result of his words by the way Jake laughed, not unlike a sharp crash of metal on metal, echoing through the room. 

 

"'Did what you had to?' So, the only way out was to fuckin' kill yourself?" his question came sharply, his anger veering his inflection. He still stared at Piers, expecting something more. Piers couldn't give it to him.

 

"That's the difference between me and you, Jake. I don't think about my own survival if it would compromise the survival of--"

 

"--the mission. Don't even fucking say it, I know."

 

"-- _ the greater good _ ."

 

Piers expected to catch Jake off-guard. Instead, Jake merely scoffed, not even half the reaction Piers had anticipated.

 

"That's the joke, Nivans. The greater good doesn't exist.  _ I'm _ the 'greater good,' some asshole peddling crack is the 'greater good,'" Jake's voice wavered between frustrated and amused. Piers could feel every bit of his anger, and yet he couldn't understand it. 

 

"Why do you even care? What reason do you have to come in here when I'm like this and give me a lecture? You're not BSAA, you're not even a friend."

 

Jake paused, his eyes still sharp but soon unfocused. His lips pursed. 

 

"I'm here cos I know you're better than that. You stuck out to me cos you're not like the rest. Last thing I expected to hear was that you pulled a stereotypical sacrifice and nearly threw your life away."

 

Piers stared, his eye wide and his fists clenched at the blankets. Jake didn't understand how it was to be in an organized military, being a soldier of fortune. Yet here he was, lauding Piers as somehow different than the rest. His shoulders drew up tightly like a bow ready to snap. Jake's blood surged into him and he swore he could almost feel the tension he carried. 

 

But he couldn’t hope to make him understand. Not now. Maybe later, when they both had time to heal, time to consider the facts and the situation. But not now. There was more to Jake than Piers had initially realised, and he was certain that Jake was feeling much of the same about him. 

 

It was silent. Whispers of wind played with the drapery before Piers opened his mouth again.

 

"Sherry sure did a number on you."


End file.
